Sensitive
by addictcas
Summary: It all starts out with an innocent request to see Castiel's wings. (Castiel/Dean) (wing kink, oil glad kink, frottage)


This... escalated quickly. In the span of fifteen minutes they went from platonic (okay, not so platonic on Dean's end) friends to _this_, Cas naked and writhing on Dean's lap, moaning as Dean bites kisses across his neck.

It started out as an innocent request to see the angel's wings. Dean had always been curious, and they had some down time while Sam was at the library, so he figured, why the hell not? The worst Cas could do was say no.

He didn't, though, and a few seconds and a little squint later Castiel manifested two enormous, raven-black wings. Even in the shitty lighting of their cheap motel they looked magnificent. When Dean told him as much Cas' feathers kind of fluffed up and he looked down shyly with a small smile and a faint blush staining his cheeks. Castiel, mighty and powerful angel of the Lord, whose wrath Dean had witnessed a countless number of times, was acting _bashful_. It was kind of cute.

As Dean got closer he could see that the feathers were in complete disarray. When he walked around to the back they were even worse.

"You've uh, got a few feathers outta place," he stated.

"Ah, yes. I'm sorry. I haven't gotten around to grooming them lately."

Dean could practically feel the light bulb blinking on over his head. Partially because he wanted to help out, but mostly because he _really_ wanted to touch those wings, Dean said, "I could do it for you, if you want."

Cas looked up at him, surprised, if the wide blue eyes were any indication. "I–I suppose, if you'd like. But..." The angel looked down, fidgeting with the sleeves of his trench coat.

"What is it?"

Castiel blushed an even darker shade of pink. "It's just... there are glands... at the bases of my wings. They secrete an oil when grooming. I wouldn't want to disturb you."

Dean laughed at that.

"Dean." Cas actually sounded distressed and embarrassed, so Dean hastily explained himself.

"It's not _that_ that's amusing. It's just that I've lived most of my life covered in monster guts. I can deal with a little wing oil. Now sit down on the bed."

At his words he saw some of the tension leave the angel's body, but he still asked as he sat down, "Are you sure?"

Dean settled down behind him and cracked his knuckles. "Relax, it'll be fine."

"I'll need to remove some of my clothing," Castiel said anxiously.

"Still fine, Cas."

The angel shifted a bit, and then there was just wings lightly-tanned skin stretched over toned muscle. His body was _fit_, and that was not what Dean had expected to find underneath the holy tax accountant outfit. He wasn't sure if it was because Jimmy Novak worked out, or the result of angel mojo, but it made Dean's heart rate pick up a little. He cleared his throat awkwardly when he realized he had been staring for a bit too long.

"So, uh, where are these gland things?"

Cas reached around and pointed right under the bottom base of one of the wings. Dean felt for it and found a raised bump. As soon as he touched it the angel let out a shaky sigh. When Dean pulled his hand away his fingers were slick.

He wasn't sure what to do (Sam was the one who watched nerdy documentaries on animals and was probably an expert in the area of bird grooming) so he just went for the most mussed up section. When he ran his fingers through the feathers Castiel gasped and Dean jerked his hand away.

"Shit, I'm sorry. Did that hurt?"

Cas rubbed the back of his neck. "No, no. They're just... sensitive. That felt different than it does when I touch them."

"Do you want me to stop?" Dean hoped he didn't. They felt incredible. Soft with a hint of static that he was sure was an angel thing.

"Not unless you want to."

"I'll just be gentle, okay?"

"Yes, okay."

Dean touched the oil gland again and Cas shivered. Maybe he was cold without all those layers on. Did angels get cold?

He started preening the feathers, adjusting ones that were crooked or bent and going back for more oil when he needed to. And then he felt trembling, all though Cas' wings and back. The angel was breathing heavily and—

_Oh._

Dean realized what was going on and felt his jeans tighten. He was already half hard just from seeing and feeling Castiel's wings and having all the lithe muscle of his back right in front of him, and now that he knew how much it affected Cas, his dick got real interested, real fast.

So he decided to increase the pressure, massaging deep though the feathers and into the muscle. Cas gripped the comforter, tangling his fingers in the ugly floral fabric. Dean experimentally raked his fingers down the right wing, and that's when Cas let out this deep, throaty moan.

"_Dean_," he breathed out, and Dean couldn't help it, he pressed his lips to the top of where wings met back. As soon as his lips left Castiel's skin there was a great flap of wings and suddenly Cas was straddling Dean's lap and attacking his mouth. Dean parted his lips for his exploratory tongue as he pushed up into Castiel's erection. The angel gripped Dean's back with one hand and his bicep with the other, digging his fingers in and grinding down hard. Dean groaned at the must needed friction, but he needed skin-on-skin like... _years ago_.

"Cas, clothes." He was apparently so far gone at that moment that his language had been thrown out the window, reducing him to two monosyllabic words.

The angel magicked off their clothing and here they are now, Cas' neck being sucked red between Dean's teeth as the hunter reaches around to dig his fingers into the barely-groomed black feathers, probably undoing the ten minutes of work he put into them. Their cocks are lined up, rubbing against each other with each roll of hips, and Dean gets an idea. He drags his hand over a now-dripping oil gland to use as lube. Castiel's whole body trembles when he does this, so he decides to spend a little more time there.

"You like that?"

"Y-yes," the angel pants against Dean's mouth. "I've never—_ah_—I've never done anything like this before."

Dean feels a certain sense of pride that Castiel is struggling with his words, too. "It's okay, Cas, I've got you."

"I know you're—_oh Dean_—I know you're used to more experienced partners—"

"Hey, none of that. I'm not comparing. You're doing great."

Cas smiles and slots their mouths together again and it's perfect. Dean's been imagining kissing those plush lips for a long time, and it feels so much better then he thought it would. The angel's mouth is soft and pliant and he is so enthusiastic, sliding his tongue against Dean's with much more finesse than is to be expected of someone who's only ever had one kiss (and he really doesn't want to think about that right now).

With his left hand on one gland he slicks up his right hand with the other. Cas bites down on Dean's lower lip when Dean gives his cock a good stroke, coating it with oil. He repeats the action on himself and then takes both of them in hand.

Castiel starts letting out all kinds of sinful noises that shouldn't come out of an angel's mouth and Dean doesn't think either of them is going to last very long. Cas sounds completely wrecked as they fuck erratically into Dean's fist, moaning out the hunter's name with every other thrust, which makes it all the more hotter.

Dean uses his less occupied hand to dig deep into Castiel's feathers, gripping them and tugging. The angel's nails bite hard into Dean's skin as he cries out brokenly, his whole body is tensing and Dean can tell he's just seconds away from release.

"Let go, Cas."

And he does, squeezing his arms and thighs tight around Dean's body and pulsing hot over Dean's hand, letting out a litany of Dean's name against his shoulder. Dean strokes him through it, and then the angel is batting his hand away, replacing it with his own on Dean's cock. His grip is a little too loose, but Dean is already so close that when Cas rubs his thumb across the head that does it for him. His orgasm hits him hard, leaving him breathless and boneless when it's over.

Dean collapses back onto the bed, dragging Castiel down with him, who curls up against Dean's side and drapes a soft wing over him.

"Was this a—how do humans say it? 'One night stand?' I know it's clearly daytime, but—"

Dean puts his finger over the angels lips to quiet the rambling that he can sense would be about to happen. "I sure as hell don't want it to be."

"Neither do I," Cas tells him as he tucks his head under Dean's chin.

"So," Dean says, huffing out a laugh. "How about we groom those wings?"


End file.
